


Passion is a Ravenous Pit

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Fingerfucking, Hot Springs & Onsen, M/M, Marking, Rutting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:58:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fast-forward seven or eight years from the canon timeline. Jean has his own squad and Armin is his tactician. </p><p>                                                                               ****</p><p>It's been a hard couple of days travel for Jeans squad and they're all looking to unwind. Holed up in an abandoned castle, Jean and Armin decide to make use of the uniquely luxurious bathing facilities. They both end up getting more than the bath they bargained for however after a fight has them skirting the edges of an attraction almost a decade in the making.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passion is a Ravenous Pit

**Author's Note:**

> There's a serious shortage of Jean/Armin porn. I only have one question... why?  
> Since I can't answer it I decided to lay down this sweet diddy in the hope that others will follow in my footsteps. Lets get the Jearmin train rolling people, Woohoo!
> 
> Ps: this is pretty much just porn, with a side of Armin angst/psychosis thrown in their because the dude is a cold motherfucker when he wants to be and I can only imagine that growing with age.

Armin walks away from Jean’s temporary quarters as fast as he can, but fast isn’t quick enough so he starts to jog. Then he starts to run. Before he knows it he’s sprinting through the halls, only stopping when he reaches a dead end and can go no further. 

Armin rests his head against the cold stone and punches the wall hard enough to break the skin. He keeps punching, over and over again until his knuckles are ripped open and bloody. He sobs aloud and slaps the bloody hand over his mouth, sinking to the floor in a crouch.

_What a ruthless, hateful fucking bastard I am. I really have become a monster haven’t I?_

Armin wipes his hands over his eyes and tries to ignore how they’re shaking. He hisses when he flexes his right hand and the skin aches. He looks down at the wound, at the dirt caking his skin and hair. He sighs and decides he needs to take a bath. He’ll bandage his hand later. 

The bath is empty when he arrives. They all must have bathed while he and Jean were planning their next move against the titan horde camped outside their stronghold. Armin swallows at the thought of Jean. God he’d been an asshole. He’d been a _cruel_ asshole. God knows Jean is a good leader. _Armin_ knows Jean is a good leader. Armin would bet his savings, meagre as they are, that Jean ends up Commander of the Scouting Division after Hanji. Half the stuff Armin said to him was just exaggerated nonsense and the rest… well. Armin is self-aware enough to realise that was mostly just him projecting his own guilt and anger onto Jean. It cost them a lot to make it to this old ruin of a castle. Too much. Armins not sure Sasha will ever forgive him for his decision today. Not after…

_Don’t think about it_

Armin strips off methodically and folds his clothes, placing them in the closest basket away from the water. Then and sits on the closest stool to wash the grime off. He scrubs harshly until his skin is pink and irritated and then he scrubs some more. He pours water over his head and gasps at the cold, combs the tangles out of his hair with his fingers, pulling the more stubborn chunks of dirt out as best he can. Of course he ends up ripping hair out of his head in frustration when the knots refuse to untangle, but he’s just mad enough with grief and self-loathing that he doesn’t care.

_Oh Connie… Connie I’m so sorry. Wherever you are… I hope you didn’t suffer…_

Armin shakes his head, like he can will away the events of today if he tries hard enough. He heaves a weary sigh.

_Stop. There’s no use thinking about it anymore. It’s done. I’ve made my bed and now I must lie in it_

Armin gets back to the task at hand like he always does, because it’s all he can do. The time to move forwards and forget always comes too soon in their profession. The price of fighting the titans on their turf is too high, but he’ll take it because he must.

He must.

There are still several clumps at the back of his head that Armin can’t reach, but he’s tired and his hand is throbbing and he really _really_ can’t find it in himself to care about them. Armin fills the water bucket again and pours it over his head to smooth his hair back into some semblance of order before blinking open his wet eyes.

Jean is standing in front of him.

Armin yelps and stares up at him. He probably looks like a drowned rat. 

_How pathetic…_

Sure enough Jean sniggers and grins down at him. “You alright there Armin?”

There’s no sign of animosity in Jeans voice, no tension in the lines of his body. He doesn’t seem awkward at all. Just regular, normal old Captain Jean. Like their heated argument never happened at all. Jean has always though Armin was too careless with human life, but trusted him to be tactician to his squad anyway. Jean was proven right today. Armin almost can’t look at him for the shame of it.

Lost for words, Armin just nods. 

Jean turns away from him begins to strip. Lost in his thoughts, Armin almost doesn’t notice what is being revealed to him. In the scouting division they’re all muscular by necessity, but Jean like Armin himself has always been a bit softer than normal. Now Armin can’t help but notice that Jean has a lean, heavily sculpted body. He doesn’t remember Jean looking like that last time he saw him naked. 

_I definitely would have remembered_

Even though they’ve bathed together before, their schedules haven’t coincided enough over the past year to allow bathing at the same time. Usually one of them is always overseeing the squad while the other sees to personal needs. 

Not today.

Despite the guilt over his harsh words still stirring in his stomach, Armin can’t find it within himself to be anything but appreciative of the sight. Jean fills the bucket and pours it straight over his head, entirely unselfconscious. 

_Well why would he be?_ Armin thinks faintly, staring at his well-defined abs. _I wouldn’t give a damn who was watching if I looked like that_

Jean starts to wash himself, cloth following the water sluicing down his body. Armin watches, fascinated, as the cloth clears away grime and dirt to reveal clean, rippling skin underneath. Armins mouth dries out and he licks his lips in an attempt to recover some moisture. 

He realises he’s been staring for an uncomfortably long time when Jean looks over at him casually, cloth rubbing at the juncture between his pelvis and thigh and raises an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

Armin looks away quickly and shakes his head. He trained himself out of blushing years ago, but he might as well be with how loud he’s broadcasting his embarrassment. Now he just has to get in the water before his semi becomes obvious enough that Jean notices. 

He starts to rise, but Jean’s hand on his shoulder stops him. Armin almost jumps at the touch of his callouses, rough from his swords and scraping too casually against his wet skin. Jean chuckles. “You’ve still got shit in your hair. Want help?”

Armin nods, unable to find his voice even if he wanted to. Jean taps his arm.

“Stand up. I can’t reach you all the way down there.”

Armin swallows and does so. Jean kicks the stool to the side and comes up behind him with a full bucket of water that he places on the stool. He wrings the dirt out of the sponge and soaks it in clean water. 

“It’s pretty shit of you to hog the sponge y’know. I had to use that shitty cloth to wash myself. Think there’s still dirt in my ass,” Jean says, his breath ghosting across the back of Armin’s neck, making him shiver. Jean must notice, they’re too close for him not to, but he just wrings the sponge over his hair and doesn’t say a word. Armin gasps. He’d forgotten how cold the water was. Jeans hands are surprisingly gentle as he starts to pull apart his knots and Armin finds himself being lulled by the sensation. 

“Sorry,” he rasps, partly because of emotion, partly because of Jean, and they both know he’s not talking about the cloth. Jeans hands stops combing through his hair and smooth across his back to grip his shoulders instead, squeezing.

“S’alright. I get it,” Jean says, like it’s really that simple. Armin wants to argue. He knows Jean doesn’t get it, because if he did he wouldn’t be using that self-effacing tone like everything Armin said was right. He wants to sit him down and explain how wrong he was to take his guilt out on Jean. Wants to tell him he’s a fantastic leader and a better friend. That Connie’s death wasn’t his fault. That he should never _ever_ think of himself as anything less than amazing, but the words die on his lips. 

Armin doesn’t know how to say those things. Not anymore. The Armin of three years ago would know. The one who would never knowingly sacrifice a friend, who had never seen hundreds of soldiers die because his plans weren’t good enough to save them. That Armin would know how to assuage his friends doubts, remedy the wounds he inflicted.

This Armin clenches his fists in his lap and says nothing.

Jean undoes the last of the knots from his hair and pours the rest of the bucket over Armin’s head without warning. Armin splutters and rounds on Jean, eyes as wide as a cartoon deer. Jean snickers and ducks out of the way of Armins reach. Ignoring Armins glare, he runs a hand through his hair and stretches. Armin glances down—can’t help it really—and feels a flush of arousal. He curses inwardly as his semi makes a reappearance, walking towards the hot pool at a hurried pace. At the very least if he gets hard in there Jean won’t notice.

Armin lowers himself into the steaming water with a sigh. Hot water is a luxury they usually don’t have access to on missions, but this castle was built next to a natural hot spring. The plumbing was designed to siphon off water from the spring and bring it through steel pipes in the walls, heating the interior of the castle throughout the seasons and now providing bath water hot enough to soak the ache from their muscles. Sitting on what feels like an underwater stone bench, Armin arches back to wet his hair and smooth it back from his face. He hums at the sensation of hot water trailing over his shoulders and collarbones, relaxing for the first time in days.

When he looks up again Jean is watching him, an odd look in his eyes. He’s never liked people watching him, but Jean makes him nervous in a different way than those he’s used to. The ones who look at him and admire his genius, or with hatred in their eyes after a plan of his devising lost too many lives. Over the years his poker face has developed to challenge Corporal Levi’s so he knows it doesn’t show for which he is thankful. 

“Jean?” he asks, just to get him to stop staring. If he doesn’t quit looking soon Armin might do something stupid like kiss him—and then where would they be?

Jean shakes his head, blushing. “Uh, sorry. Just thinking.”

Jean’s a terrible liar. Even after all these years he still stammers. Armin lets it go though. They’ve had a hard few days travel. Jean’s expected to act a bit odd.

They soak for a while, just revelling in the heat and the quiet together. Armin’s so relaxed he doesn’t realise he’s nodded off until he’s slipping down, and his face is burning, and he sucks in a lung-full of water that feels like fire. He panics blindly for a minute before Jeans hands wrap around his arms and pull him up. Armin breaks the surface with a gasp, coughing out water. Jean pushes the hair out of his face frantically to get a look at his eyes, his own searching and worried with an edge of panic.

“Jesus Armin, are you alright?” he says, as breathless as Armin feels.

_He looks scared…_

Without thinking, Armin reaches up and lays his hand against the side of Jeans face, stroking a thumb over his damp brow gently. That fearful expression has no place on Jeans face anymore. Armin never wants to see it again after today--wants it gone with a fervour he hasn’t wanted anything in a very long time. 

Jeans breathing hitches, a small sound that is so loud in the space between their bodies.

Armin freezes when he realises what he’s doing.

For a moment they’re at a mutually embarrassed impasse. Then Armin embarrasses himself further by slipping on the slippery bottom of the bath.

“Wow!” Jean grabs him by the hips and pulls Armin against his own body to stop the fall. Their skin makes a wet _slap_ where their bodies collide and slide together until Armin is steady on his feet. Caught in each others wide-eyed stares they share breaths and Armin tries not to notice what can only be Jeans cock caressing his abdomen. They’re both panting, but Armins breathing stutters when he feels Jeans thigh slip between his legs and… and _press._

Armin moans, a low sound. Suddenly Jean is much closer to his face than he was before. It is a small comfort right now that Jean looks as nervous as Armin feels. 

“I…” Armin trails off, unsure of what to say. He’s never been in this situation before. How do you say thank you for saving my life and I’d really like to kiss you in the same sentence?

Jean solves this riddle for him by bending down and pressing their lips together. 

“Oh,” Armin breathes softly against his lips. This is how.

Jean smiles, a mile short of his usual cock-sure grin “Yeah. Armin...”

Their lips part for a moment, breathing in the humidity of the bath and each other. Armin opens his eyes to find Jean already looking at him with something like wonder in his eyes, something like want.

_Oh well that’s new. Haven’t had that look before._

Armin licks his lips. Jeans eyes darken.

The second kiss is harder.

Armins arms come up to wind around Jeans neck and Jeans hands clench his hips and dig nails into his ass. Armin shivers. Jeans lips coax his open and Armin groans at the first brush of tongue against tongue. Jean shivers at the sound and somehow finds a way to pull him closer. They fall further into each other, getting lost in it. Armin is lost and hungry in a way he’s never been before. Taking and being taken in equal measure, a feedback loop of _good_ that only makes him crave more. It feels like there’s this bottomless pit inside him that needs to be filled and what he takes is never ever enough, but the act of taking is the only thing that makes the need bearable. Jeans mouth is humid inside, warm and wet and everything he didn’t know he needed. Armin knows he could eat him, devour him whole like a titan and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. It’s just begun and he already knows there will be no getting enough of Jean. There couldn’t be. One of Armins hands moves to thread through Jeans hair while the other scrapes blunt nails down his back so that Jean grinds their cocks together. 

Armin gasps and presses closer, rubs his dick against Jeans and moans at the way is makes heat coil in his gut and sends sparks of pure pleasure shooting up his spine. Jean groans back and grabs Armin by the thigh, pulling his leg up and around his waist to better control the pace of their rutting. Resting his head against the just of Jeans collarbone, Armin tastes his skin and scrapes nails down his back, giving as good as he gets.

“Armin,” Jean pants, baring more of his neck for Armins wicked mouth. “Oh fuck Armin…”

Armin continues his good work exploring the long column of Jeans neck and sets up home behind his ear, kissing and sucking at the skin while Jean groans and pants and keeps grinding their dicks together. Jeans other hand creeps down to cup his balls, teasing them with the gentlest touches over papery skin. The touch invokes such maddening pleasure that Armin couldn’t help it if he tried, he whimpers. Jean moans in response to the sound and seems to make it his personal mission from there on to make Armin do it again, rubbing them together hard enough to scramble what remains of Armins brains. 

Thrusting both hands into Jeans hair he pulls him into a kiss that somehow manages to be harder and dirtier than all the previous ones. Moving one hand to clutch at Jeans shoulder, he uses the leverage to wrap his other leg around Jeans waist. Seeing where he’s going, Jean catches him under the thighs and moves his hands to his ass to pull him in and keep grinding. Armin buries his face in Jeans neck again to stifle his sounds and starts leaving sucking red welts down his neck in revenge, licking over them delicately when Jean starts to hiss.

Abruptly, Jean growls under his breath and walks them over to the wall of the bathhouse, pressing Armin up against it like he wants to press him into his skin by sheer force of will. Armin shivers at the cold stone and the way Jean is sucking and kissing down his neck. Jeans breath puffs against the shell of his air and he sucks his earlobe into his mouth. Armin whimpers again. Jean groans and reaches down between them to fondle his sex and balls. Armin moans.

“God you’re so hot. When did you get so hot?” Jean mutters.

Armin runs his hands over Jeans muscled back, over his firm ass, up his rippling stomach and hard chest before panting, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Jean pulls away from biting his neck to grin, his face sex-flushed and his hair mussed from Armins fingers. “You think I’m hot?”

Armin groans and runs his hands over Jeans muscled arms appreciatively. “I think you’re sexy,” he corrects, licking his lips and watching with satisfaction as Jeans eyes follow his tongue, “I think I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you, and I want you,” he guides Jeans hand back to his sex, “right,” he moans, high and breathy as he rubs Jeans hand over himself, “ _here_.”

“Shit,” Jean groans, rubbing him until he moans again. “ _Shit_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Oh Jean, _yes_ ,” he moans when Jean squeezes him just right. 

Jean laughs into his ear, pushing Armins long hair aside to kiss the side of his neck. His hips pish up against Armins thigh and the reminder of Jeans arousal makes him dizzy with lust as he starts to rub up against his hip. Jeans mouth grazes up his throat and over the shell of his ear, biting and sucking at his lobe. Armin groans and arches into the sensation, clutching at Jeans back. Jeans breath puffs against his ear.

“Can I come in your ass?” He asks, husky and low. Armin groans at the thought. God he wants that, but they’ll be on horseback later and he can’t risk the soreness. Jean kisses his jaw and makes a soothing noise like he knows what Armin is thinking. “Oh I know I can’t fuck you for real, but I’d love to get my cock inside you, just a little, so I can fill you up with my come. I can picture it so clearly Armin. I’d put it in you, just a little, just the tip and you’d clench down around me so perfectly warm and tight. You make the sweetest sounds Armin and you’d make them all for me as I gave it to you, gave you what you wanted, what you _needed_. You’d be so gorgeous filled with my come, filled with _me_.” Jean looks him in the eyes, his own eyes dark with arousal. Unable to help himself, Armin arches his back when Jean strokes him long and firm and perfect, dizzy with his own arousal at Jeans words. At Jean. “I want you to know how it feels to be full of me so you never forget it,” Jean hisses, biting under his ear in the same place Armin did and sucking savagely.

Armin groans.

“ _Yesyesyesyes_ ,” he says, a litany of noise that just means _please_.

Jeans hand drops from his cock to his balls, squeezing gently and letting one long finger slip behind to rub his taint and graze his asshole just the slightest bit. Armin arches into the touch with a high “ _ah!_ ” of pleasure. The graze becomes a press as Jean strokes his hole gently. Armin undulates against the digit and the very tip of the finger slips inside, making him whimper.

“Mmm,” Jean groans against his mouth, “I knew you’d be warm.”

Armin sighs with pleasure when the finger presses further inside and rubs against his walls. The whole time he never looks away from Jeans dark, dark eyes, trapped like a fly in honey.

_God, why have we never done this before?_

Jean carries Armin to the side of the bath and lays him out on the cold floor, all prodigious strength and effortless movement. It makes Armin lick his lips and shover with want. By now Armin is making high-pitched sounds every time their cocks rub together and Jean is moaning into his neck when Armin rubs and pinches his nipples the right way. Armin takes note of Jeans nipple sensitivity for later and starts thrusting back on the finger that has slipped back inside of him. His hand drifts down towards his cock. He’s so _close_.

Jean grabs a hold of his hips to stop him moving on his finger. “You don’t want to be sore,” he reminds him.

Armin groans and makes a detour to grab Jeans cock instead, stroking firmly. Jean shivers. “Then hurry up and put it in me,” he says, too breathy to be stern, but Jean moves like he’s been issued an order anyway.

Removing his finger from Armin, Jean hurries to comply. He settles back on his heels between Armins legs and strokes his cock, mouth swollen and eyes hooded. Armin squirms under the scrutiny and so much for training himself out of it because now he’s _definitely_ blushing. 

Jean stares at him and licks his lips. Armin can see his swollen, red cock thrusting powerfully through his fingers. It makes him hungry.

Feeling almost desperate, Armin draws his knees up to his chest and lets them drop off to his sides so he’s as exposed as possible. Then he reaches down with both hands and parts his cheeks, exposing his hole to Jean who starts fucking up into his hand desperately.

“Fuck don’t do that to me,” Jean groans, looking tortured.

“Come here then,” Armin whispers slyly, “come _quickly_.”

Jean moves up between his legs and pushes the head of his dick right up against him. Armin throws his head back and pants as Jean presses forward until just the head is inside. It burns a little, but all Armin can focus on is how _hot_ Jean feels inside him. Jeans dick is like a furnace, even just the head of it, heating him up from the inside, making him flush and pant and _writhe_. 

Jean starts pumping himself, staring down at Armin as he moves helplessly against the floor. 

“Go you’re so…” he trails off with a groan as Armin starts to stroking himself, fondling his balls with his other hand. “I’m gonna come so hard Armin you have no idea. Gonna fill you right up.”

Armin’s close, he’s so _so_ close and Jeans words are only getting him closer. His cock is weeping and his ass is throbbing wonderfully. All he needs is a little push, a little bit more. Armin twists a hand in his own hair and arches in frustration. 

Jeans hips stutter and he comes on a long groan, balls emptying inside of him. Armin feels it happening, feels himself growing wet inside, feels the way Jeans dick slides _in_ just a little bit more, riding the wave of his own come. 

That’s all it takes. 

Armin cries out and comes hard against his stomach. 

They lie together afterwards on the cold stone, utterly spent and lazy with orgasm. Jean pulls Armin up from his boneless sprawl to rest his head against his chest before he absently starts untangling the knots from Armins hair again.

Armin makes an effort to sound vaguely apologetic, remembering how long it took Jean to get the knots out before. “Sorry I ruined all your hard work.”

Jean snorts and grips him at the base of his hair to tilt his head up. They kiss softly.

“I don’t mind,” Jean says after they’ve pulled apart, “It was just an excuse to touch you. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this.”

“You don’t need to make excuses to touch me.”

Jeans looks surprised, like he’s questioning his own luck. It makes Armin want to remind Jean that Armins the lucky one, the one that should be caught off guard that an Adonis like Jean wants anything to do with the likes of him, but Armin doesn’t say things like that anymore. The more he looks at Jean though, the more he thinks maybe that could change. 

Jeans hand wanders down his side, over his ribs. “No?” he asks, like he has to be sure. It’s pretty cute.

“No,” Armin confirms, kissing under his jaw where one of his vivid red marks rests. They’re going to be hell to hide tomorrow, but something tells him Jean won’t really mind.

Jeans hand drifts down his spine, over the swell of his ass to dip between his cheeks again. His questing fingers find his hole and dips inside gently, feeling his own come slipping out. Jean makes a sad sound and Armin hums when he feels a finger pushing up into him again, pushing his come back inside. 

“It’s not going to stay in there forever,” Armin says, giving into the temptation to lick at Jeans nipples again, sighing happily when Jeans breathing hitches and his cock thickens slightly against his thigh. 

“Well I guess I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

Armin bites Jeans nipple and he lets out a yelp. “Presumptuous,” Armin admonishes. Armin’s fingers graze Jeans ass, slipping between his cheeks to trail down his crack and brush over his hole. He presses a little, massaging rhythmically. Jean makes a high sound, caught off guard. Armin presses a little harder until the tip of his finger slips inside. Jean shivers and flushes red.

“I have absolutely no problem with that,” Jeans assures him, breathless. His cock twitches against Armins stomach.

Armin looks up at him, wicked. “I didn’t think so.”


End file.
